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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27917779">A Candle to Guide Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvendork/pseuds/Elvendork'>Elvendork</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, First Kiss, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, Love Confessions, Missing Scene</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:49:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,969</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27917779</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvendork/pseuds/Elvendork</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt "hospital wing chapter and how they finally got together before holding hands at Dumbledore's funeral".</p>
<p>Remus, as is his wont, is consumed by self-hatred and grief. Tonks, as is her wont, won't take no for an answer. They can make it work.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Candle to Guide Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allythegreat1/gifts">Allythegreat1</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title is from "Monster" by Imagine Dragons, which is a very Remus Lupin song.</p>
<p>Thank you ever so much to Allythegreat1 for this request, I really enjoyed writing it. I'm not ruling out writing one of the others at some point - we'll see. I hope you enjoy it!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They drift away from the hospital wing eventually, in ones and twos; all except Molly, Arthur, and Fleur, who remain with Bill. Some of them (Remus assumes, being too dazed by recent events to keep accurate track) leave for their own homes, or else to deal with matters away from Hogwarts. Remus stays. Professor McGonagall had returned briefly after her discussion with the Heads of House to offer those who wished to do so a room for the night, and had given a group of somber house elves the task of preparing appropriate quarters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not long after that their small gathering starts to break up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is an awkward moment, when they step into the deserted corridor together, when Remus thinks that Tonks will take this opportunity to redouble her efforts at changing his mind about her. She certainly hesitates for a long moment before speaking, but in the end she simply wishes him a quiet "good night" and walks away. He isn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus longs, with a deep and abiding ache, for the comforting familiarity of his old Gryffindor dormitory. He has not seen it for almost twenty years. It is a pointless and misplaced desire, but no less strong for that. It isn't the room he misses, after all, but the people he shared it with. It is the long ago, fleeting sensation of </span>
  <span>belonging</span>
  <span> he yearns for, that distant memory of safety even amidst the building war outside, even against the monster crouching within him. He misses it - misses them - so much it is a physical pain, so much that he hardly knows if there is a single part of him left not tainted and consumed by it. Perhaps that is all he is now, all he has been for a long time; a creature of grief and shame, empty of anything softer or kinder, empty even of love. Perhaps that is what he is trying to protect Tonks from. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He meets no one, not even a ghost, on his way to his temporary room. When he enters it at last he scarcely notices the sparse furnishings except to sink onto the low bed and put his head in his hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dumbledore is dead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dumbledore is dead, and Severus Snape is the one who killed him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It does not seem real. It does not seem </span>
  <span>possible, </span>
  <span>and Remus is a man well used to both loss and betrayal. He hovers between disbelief and despair, between feeling utterly numb and being overwhelmed by grief. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He loses track of time. Everything is suspended, even thought. Even feeling. There is only empty silent nothingness stretching on for what seems like forever, and for a while Remus welcomes it because it is so much easier than facing reality. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He does not know how many minutes or hours pass before there is a gentle tap at the door. By the time he has summoned the energy to stand he half expects whoever it was to have given up and left. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He walks across and opens the door mechanically, feeling nothing; no curiosity, no concern, not even a wish to be left alone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It is Tonks. This is surprising enough that for a moment he feels something - a muffled fizz, a stifled spark - too small and fleeting to identify properly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello,” he greets her automatically. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi,” she replies, trying for a smile and falling some way short. She looks nervous, which is not something he thinks he has ever seen before. He becomes aware, from a faint prickling in his fingers, that his numbness is slowly receding. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” he asks, frowning. The expression seems to take far more effort than usual. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I couldn't sleep,” Tonks explains. It is not really an answer, but then, it had not really been a question, only reflex. Of course she is not alright. None of them are. Right now Remus is struggling to think of a time when they ever will be again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nor I,” he agrees eventually, though in truth he isn't sure. He might have dozed or he might not have done. Everything since she walked away from him in the corridor outside the hospital wing is a blur. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tonks glances down, then up. Her mousy hair is lank, her face paler than usual, and there are bruise coloured shadows standing out starkly under her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come in,” Remus offers, stepping back. “If you'd like.” He feels like he must be speaking too slowly to be understood, but somehow his meaning must be plain because the next thing he is aware of he is sitting back on the bed, and Tonks is sitting beside him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tries to summon some sort of apprehension about being this close to her, but it doesn't come. He is too tired, and too empty, for that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can't believe he's gone.” Her voice sounds as hollow as Remus feels. He shakes his head. Neither of them are looking at each other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can't either,” he replies at last. He is surprised to hear his voice crack. He feels a weight settle on his arm, and manages to focus enough to recognise Tonks's hand resting there. Something fizzles across his nerves, something he might once have recognised as warmth. It sputters out like a dying candle before it can get far. He does not move away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They remain like that, in a silence which is somehow less oppressive than it was before, for some time. Remus does not know exactly how much. He knows that her hand does not move, and he knows that its presence is, if not actually pleasant - which seems too strong a word for anything at the moment - certainly not unwelcome.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you,” Tonks declares at last, apropos of nothing. Her voice is low and fierce with steely determination. Remus feels no surprise at her declaration.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” he replies quietly. He does not look at her face; his eyes are fixed to the sight of her small hand on his arm. He does not know why he said that, why he didn't respond with his usual rebuffs and rejections, except that to do so now, like this, would seem the worst sort of unkindness. He </span>
  <span>does</span>
  <span> know. He just also knows that they can't do anything about it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I'm not going to stop,” she continues. A flicker of emotion, hardly more forceful than the brush of a moth's wing, stirs in his chest. He couldn't say which emotion it was, so weak and fleeting it had been. Perhaps fear. Perhaps hope. Perhaps nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What would you have said, if he was going to be a true werewolf?” asks Tonks at last. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I'm sorry?” Remus finally, finally raises his head and looks Tonks in the eyes. Tear tracks are clear on her cheeks, but her expression is set, blazing. Resolute. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If Bill was going to be a true werewolf. What would you have said? Would you have told Fleur to leave him?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That's not -” Remus begins, pulling away. Her hand slips from his arm. He feels cold at the loss. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or Bill to leave her?” Tonks demands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That's completely beside the point.” Remus stands up, pacing away and dragging a hand through his hair. He feels something now, something like </span>
  <span>anger</span>
  <span>, and something else too; something bright and burning and, if he were in any condition to recognise it, almost </span>
  <span>joyful</span>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it?” Tonks stands too. “Are you really trying to protect me, or are you trying to protect yourself?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don't understand.” Remus shakes his head. “You </span>
  <span>refuse</span>
  <span> to understand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I do understand, better than you do. And it's not even that, is it? You're not protecting yourself. You're </span>
  <span>punishing</span>
  <span> yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don't be ridiculous.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then tell me you don't love me. Tell me you don't care about me, that you never could and never did. Tell me that, honestly, and I'll go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus opens his mouth to do just that, to send her away for good, to finally convince her of what he has been trying to say for a year now; that she is better off without him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yet he is torn. To tell her that he doesn't care, and care deeply, would be an outright lie. It would be justified, he knows. If he truly does love her then he must make her believe the opposite, or else accept that he is after all as selfish as he has always feared. For her own sake he needs to do this. For her own good. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hesitates too long. He cannot do it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don't bother. I know it would be a lie.” Her voice has gentled, which makes Remus more reluctant than ever to meet her eyes. If he does, he could not say what he would do. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you think you don't deserve happiness?” It is so soft he is not sure, at first, that he truly heard her. Then he feels the touch of her hand once more; she has reached out and taken his, loosely, pulling it towards herself. He lets her. He closes his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He does not know the answer to her question, but it does not occur to him to deny it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You love me,” Tonks murmurs. “Tell me I'm wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He does not. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They would have wanted you to be happy.” She does not specify which </span>
  <span>they</span>
  <span> she means. She does not need to. “Tell me I'm wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He does not. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This could make you happy.” She is whispering now. “Tell me I'm wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He does not. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly, tenderly, giving him every chance to pull away, to say something, to stop her, she brings his hand up - up - towards her face, her lips - she brushes his knuckles with the gentlest of kisses, her eyes never leaving his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes, at last, flick up to hers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Feeling </span>
  <span>flares</span>
  <span> inside him. Hot, rushing, desperate feeling, and before he has thought about it, before he has had a chance to talk himself out of it - he is kissing her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He has pulled her towards him and wrapped one arm around her waist, lifted the other hand to cup her jaw, and he is kissing her with everything he has. She gasps at the sudden movement and leans into it, her own hands meeting behind Remus’s head, returning the kiss with equal fervour.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you,” she whispers into his mouth, pressing herself close, drinking him in, teeth and tongues clashing, hands tangled in hair; there is as much fear in the kiss as love, as much grief as hope, and she thinks she might be crying - he might be crying - they are both crying, and perhaps they will both regret this - or perhaps they won’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t”, he replies, even as he holds her so tightly he fears it must hurt, and hates himself for it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” she says, and pulls back just an inch or two, framing his face with her hands, breathing heavily and peering earnestly into his face. “I love you, Remus. I’m not going to stop.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something crumbles inside him at the sight of her face. Something heavy and oppressive tumbles to dust; something which has been there so long that its absence, while a blessed relief, is also somehow terrifying. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you, too,” he breathes, like a dangerous secret. His heart is racing. He is almost as surprised by his words (not by the feeling, but by the fact of his admitting it) as Tonks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tonks, whose eyes widen and whose mouth curls up into an incandescent smile; whose lank mousy hair brightens moment by moment as seconds tick by and he does not deny it and he does not pull back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She is beaming, and her hair is pink, and she loves him. She isn’t going to stop.</span>
</p>
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